If Ever I Fall
by caffinate-me
Summary: 'All day long I can hear people talking out loud, but when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd. Old Mr. Webster could never define, what's being said between your heart and mine. The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall, you say it best when you say nothing at all.' A Three-Shot. COMPLETE.
1. When You Don't Say A Thing

If Ever I Fall

A Three-Shot

Written by: Caffinate-Me

For: Dtrekker

Edited by: Kate Christie

Lyrics from the song "When You Say Nothing At All", the Alison Krauss version.

#*#*#

_It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart_

_Without saying a word you can light up the dark_

"You know, when we first met I wanted to hate you."

Kate sighed at the silence that followed the statement. But she took it as a cue to continue on, to plunge forward, to say what she needed to say. She knew he was listening; he was always listening.

"You were so damn arrogant. A charming asshole."

She huffed out a laugh as she reached out to brush her hand through his hair, the ends of the short strands tickling her fingertips. It was time for him to get it cut.

"But you knew me right from the start. You read me like I could one of your books. Flipping through the pages of my soul, coaxing the words, the story, right out of me."

A soft smile graced her face as she traced her index finger down the smooth lines of his temple and into the prickly stubble that peppered his cheek. Her fingers wrapped around his jaw as her thumb caressed the darkening circle under his eye.

"See what you've done to me? My language never used to be this flowery before we met. You have me saying things like 'until tomorrow' and 'see you in the morning' instead of 'night' or 'bye'.

His words echoed in her head. "_Everyday I bring you a cup of coffee just to see a smile on your face because you are the most remarkable, maddening, challenging frustrating person I've ever met and I love you…"_

"It's true, you know. I knew you loved me before you told me, because of everything else. Small things. The flowers you brought me, and those presents— always something I wanted but had never said. The coffee... You were… you _are_ a light. You saw me in the darkness, even when no one else did. You knew where I was hiding, you knew how to scale those walls, how to pull me out of my shell. You knew when to give me space and when to barrel on through. You had the right words…"

It was true. She had become entangled, forever entranced by his words.

"But my favorite words, Castle, were the ones you never spoke aloud. They were the ones you said with your hands, your eyes, your lips on my skin. The small sighs, the gentle caresses, a handshake… I could always hear you most clearly in those moments. And I know I am saying this really badly now, but this is a time when the words need to be spoken aloud, so I'm doing the best that I can."

She could feel eyes on her, silent, questioning. Trying to give her the space that she needed, she wanted, but still there, supporting, condemning, sympathizing, blaming her as she babbled on, attempting to make her jumbled thoughts into coherent sentences. There was so little time, but she had to say this, she had to.

"I can't explain it, I'm not sure if I ever will be able to— what I hear then. I hear everything and nothing at the same time. It's like a calm washes over me, and suddenly everything is right in the world. I can _feel _it, and it's so much more powerful than words. It's more powerful than that darkness that drove me for so long."

That calm guided her; lit the path.

"A beacon…"

Her eyes drifted down to where their hands were clasped on the sea of white. People were staring and she didn't care. She couldn't care, not now, because this was about them: him and her. No one else mattered in this moment. Not his mother, not his daughter, nor her father or their friends, all of whom were staring at them, at her; holding a collective breath.

_Try as I may I could never explain_

_What I hear when you don't say a thing_

"But as much as I love those moments, as much as I crave them sometime. Right now I need you to say _something_. I need you to look at me with those big blue eyes and form the words I need to hear."

A single hot tear fell down her cheek, burning a hole in the sheet next to where she held his fingers like a vise.

"Because the doctor is saying the longer you stay like this, the more unlikely it is that you'll ever wake up. And you have to wake up because I need to tell you how stupid you are for doing what you did."

She paused, to suck in a breath, because the tears were falling like rain now, leaving shining streaks down her face and it was becoming harder for her to breathe, but it was pouring out of her now, the words, the hurt, the anger, the pure, raw emotion; the dam broken.

"You're so stupid! I would have been fine. Look at me, I _am _fine."

Her free hand moved to scratch at the strip of white gauze wrapped around her arm, covering all the burnt flesh from her upper bicep to her wrist. It itched now, as it healed, and it would never be the same smooth skin it had been before, but it _would _heal.

"What kind of an idiot runs into a burning building, huh? Why would you do something like that?"

She was yelling now. People in the hall stopped to watch. More eyes on her, on them, but she didn't care. Because if her words were loud enough, then they would overpower the shrill beep of the heart monitor, and she could pretend that they were at home, in their own bed, and this was all a scene from one of his books that they were reading.

The cough crackled out of her chest and the hacking sound brought the nurse running. They had lectured her about not getting worked up, warned her that it would make it too hard for her to breathe. They had told her that she would never be able to do field work again because of it.

She waved off the nurse, who was trying to talk her into going back to lie down. She would be fine…

"But you know what I hear now, Castle? Silence. That's it. There are no unspoken messages, not even wordless platitudes, just nothing. And I need _something. _You owe me that. You promised me, Castle, you promised me words, an epic love story, one to rival the greats… You promised me always…"

Her eyes stung as she saw the flashing blue and red lights in her mind's eye, the smell of smoke once again filling her lungs. The morphine was beginning to wear off and she could feel the ache returning; it was becoming harder to move, to breathe, to hold her head up. Her entire body burned, battered and bruised. The cast on her leg felt like a dead weight holding her down. And suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to just float off on that cloud again.

Her voice dropped back down to a defeated whisper as she felt the tug on the back of her wheelchair and her fingers unwound themselves from his.

"Why, for once, couldn't you have just stayed in the damn car?"

#*#*#


	2. If ever I fall

If Ever I Fall

Part 2 of 3

#*#*#

_The smile on your face lets me know that you need me_

_There's a truth in your eyes sayin' you'll never leave me_

That smile. It warmed him to the core every time he saw it. It was… luminescent. And even after all of these years, it still appeared whenever he placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. It sometimes even adorned her face before she had opened her eyes, the smell of the fragrant beverage wafting into her dreams on a lazy Sunday morning. He yearned for those Sundays, curled up in bed, laughing, sharing the same pillow, making love— hands roaming, skin blazing, voices whispering. Slowly, lazily, like they had all the time in the world. And in those moments they did.

Unfortunately, this wasn't one of those days, so he placed her to-go cup in front of her, watched as the smile lit up her eyes, and slid into the fraying green chair beside her desk. He had considered switching out that chair a couple of times, they had gotten some nice new ones in, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. That was his chair. The chair she had loosened during the mummy case, the seat where he sat watching her do paperwork; the place he longed to be anytime they had been forced apart. It was his, theirs.

He sighed to himself, a soft, sappy, silly sound. He was sappy today and the bulge pressing against his ribcage from it's place hidden in the inside pocket of his blazer was a constant reminder as to why.

"You're staring again."

Her voice was dry, but with a teasing lilt to it, head bent as she pored over the file. He loved that tone- the one she only used when she was amused or flattered but didn't want him to know it.

"Just be happy I'm not doing what I'm thinking about doing right now."

Her hand froze, the pen with it, and a small pool of ink began to stain the page as she attempted to keep the smile from her face, her teeth biting into her lower lip in that way he loved so much. His heart fluttered. How could he not love this woman- this beautiful creature, gorgeous inside and out?

His fingers tingled with anticipation. He wanted to do it right now, here in the middle of the precinct. He wanted to get down on one knee, confess his undying love and beg her to take a fool like him as her husband. He wanted to sing out sonnets, to embarrass her to the point that her cheeks burned crimson. He wanted to do it in a way that would make her laugh, make her cry. He wanted it to be impossible for her to say no. He wanted it to be perfect...

But she was on the phone now, a new spark in her eye, one that told him that she had just been given a new lead. And then she was up and out of her chair in one swift motion, already wrapping her jacket around her shoulders as he sat. She winked, shook her hair out of her collar like he had seen her do hundreds of times before, and he was mesmerized.

"You coming, Castle?"

He was behind her in an instant, head nodding like a bobble-head doll, because, yes, she could still make him speechless, even after all of this time, and he would never leave her, not as long as she would have him. And he would continue to tell her in any way he could.

_The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall_

_You say it best when you say nothing at all_

He had left her. Well, he hadn't quite left as much as _been left_, in the car. They had fought about it, about her going in alone, without him. He didn't like it, not being her backup. He trusted Ryan and Esposito, they were good guys, they loved her like a sister; they would do anything to protect her, as they had on many occasions. She was with them on the frontlines and they had her back, but he still wanted to be there, at her side. He felt the best, the safest, when he was with her. She felt the same; she had confessed that to him before too, on one of those lazy Sundays curled up in bed under a thin sheet, foreheads and noses touching.

But this time, this time had been different. She had had 'a feeling' as she had assessed the building, the intel with a keen eye. To him, that meant that he should definitely be there or that she shouldn't go in at all. To her that meant that she should go in alone. She had even gone so far as to threaten to handcuff him again. But he had seen the seriousness in her eyes.

She had a feeling.

So, he had nodded, finally giving in, because she was normally right about this kind of thing. He believed in her gut as much as he believed in her logic. So, he sat, sulking, watching the crumbling building, his thumb aimlessly fiddling with the power switch on his phone.

He heard the shouts first, and his hand was wrestling with the seatbelt when the telltale pops from the guns echoed into his ears, bouncing off the buildings and filling the air. He was shrugging on his vest when Esposito shouted for a second time, and he froze, eyes wide, body rigid when the explosion rang out. Shards of glass rained to the ground as yellow flames licked the sky.

His ears rang, stars danced in front of his eyes, but he ran toward the building anyway, blind fury and panic driving him, overriding his logic. The suspect ran out first, Esposito hot on his heels. Ryan stumbled down the stairs, motioning over his shoulder as he coughed into his radio, calling for backup.

Beckett was right behind him, he yelled. Castle slowed for a moment, eyes trained on the stairwell, but she didn't appear, and he made the decision in the split second it took for a chunk of blazing lumber to fall at his side. This building was coming down, and he wasn't leaving without her. Not this time, not ever.

The smoke filled the air— his lungs, stung his eyes, and he lost his footing, careening into the wall as he rounded the stairs.

"Beckett! Kate!" Dry, parched lips croaked out the words, volume meaning nothing. He couldn't hear above the ringing, he couldn't see through the haze, but he kept going, drawn into the blaze. He pitched forward, propelled by sheer willpower. The smoke cleared as he rounded onto the second level and she then was in front of him, an arm cradled to her chest, the fiber of her jacket smoldering and melted into her flesh, the loose ends of her hair singed but she was there, and alive even as pain danced in her eyes.

"Castle!"

He ran toward her, reached out to grasp her good hand. Their eyes locked, an entire lifetime of conversations in a second, and in that instant the world fell away; they were there together again. They would be okay; they were always okay when they had each other.

Then they were falling in a storm of ash and kindling, the ground crumbling beneath their feet. Her fingers crushed in his as his back hit the ground; her yell, her scream, the wail of sirens, the last thing he heard as his skull cracked on the concrete.

And there was only black.

#*#*#


	3. You'll Never Leave Me

If Ever I Fall 

Part 3 of 3

#*#*#

_All day long I can hear people talking out loud_

_But when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd_

She turned her head, nuzzling her nose into the dip of his neck. She wanted more than anything to curl into him, wrap her arms around him, and have him hold her close. But her broken leg and burned arm were on opposite sides, making it impossible for her to lie in any position other than on her back. The fact that she had been able to make it onto the narrow hospital bed at all had been a miracle, and she knew if the nurse caught her up there she would receive a lecture, but she didn't care. She could barely care about anything anymore. The doctor was worried, making noises about pneumonia, too much fluid in her lungs. It hurt to breathe. They had just performed the daily percussion therapy; half an hour of hell forcing the fluid and mucus from her lungs. It wouldn't have been so painful if not for the litany of other bruises and injuries to her body.

The others whispered around her, casting her sideways glances. There was an article in the paper about it, about her and him. She had seen the headline. _Too Much Heat._

She was being blamed for this, and she should be, right? She had been selfish. He should have stopped shadowing her years ago, once he had enough 'research' for his books, but she had wanted him there, with her, at her side. She had rallied for him to stay, and now he was a breath away from death, unconscious, a machine living for him, the worry of brain injury, respiratory infection on everyone's mind.

The press was demonizing her. Alexis hadn't spoken a word to her, nor had Martha beyond the occasional inquiry as to how she was feeling. Her father, who had been perched by her side for days, had finally gone home to rest and change. Ryan and Esposito had been treated and released into the respective care of a wife and medical examiner.

But what about him? What would he say about all of this? He wouldn't blame her, would he? Would he be upset with his family for exiling her, the way they had. Would he understand? She reached out her good hand in front of her, the other curled over her abdomen, the single position that didn't cause her agony. But the doctors said the pain was good, the pain meant little to no nerve damage. She should regain full use of her arm, in time.

Time.

They had always thought they had had so much of it. So lucky, so foolish. So many brushes with death. How many; she didn't know. He would know. The thought was fleeting. He would know exactly how many times they had almost died; how many times she had saved his life, and he hers. He probably had it documented in a file somewhere: dates, times, circumstances, pictures. That's the type of person he was. Is.

Her fingers played with the box, tossed it lightly in the air, ran a finger over the curved top as she clutched it in her fist, plucked at the lid threatening to open it. She hadn't looked at it yet, but she knew what it held. The nurse had pulled it out of his belongings to show to her.

"You should have asked me," her voice was hoarse, crackling. "A week ago, a year ago, five years ago, you should have asked me. I would have said yes. It's always been yes."

Her lips brushed against his skin and the whole world melted away, because here, with him, she was safe from the looks, the stares, the rumors and whispers.

And then, the monitor let out a wail and people were running. Shouts surrounded them and she was floating through the air back into her wheelchair, away from him. She tried to shout out, to argue, but her throat burned and her voice fell flat as she was banished from his side, left only to watch.

_Old Mr. Webster could never define_

_What's being said between your heart and mine_

He had to wake up soon. That's what they had said. They were worried about his brain, his lungs, his heart, infection. Everything. Another day passed and there was even less of a chance of recovery.

She flipped mindlessly through the magazine as she sat, anchored, at his side. One of the nurses had handed it to her. Not her usual fare. The articles were all about love. January had folded into February and that meant Valentine's Day.

"How to Get Your Man", "How To Keep Your Man", "Quiz: Is He Your Soul Mate?"

She flipped the cover shut, spun the bundle of pages onto the floor by her side and reached out for his hand instead. The box was resting on the blanket between them. She had, long ago stopped questioned what they had. She didn't need to. She saw it every time their eyes locked, felt it with every electric connection of their flesh, heard it with every theory bantered between them.

They had rarely spoken of love; they had never broached the topic of soul mates. It wasn't like them. On rare occasion he would whisper poetry into her ear, hum a ballad into the soft creases of her flesh, and she to him. But they both knew what they had— it eluded explanation. Indefinable and completely theirs.

She hooked her pinky through his, twisting the rest of her hand to wrestle the box open. She had to see it, to know, and her breath stuck in her chest as her eyes caught on the diamond dancing in unrelenting fluorescent light. It was beautiful, perfect.

"You need to wake up now, Castle. You need to wake up and look me in the eye because I have a question to ask you and you have to say yes."

The heart monitor jumped again, letting out a shrill beep and her words turned into pleas and protests as tears began to spill, once again, down her face. The box was left abandoned as her fingers threaded through his, an unwavering lifeline, tethering him, holding him up as he threatened to fall.

"No," she forced the word out in a shout as they tried to wheel her back. She wasn't leaving this time. She would stay by his side, for better or worse, 'til death did them part, because _that_ is what she would have promised, _if only_...

And with a single twitch of a finger her heart stopped, her stomach plummeted and her lips let out an involuntary laugh, because after that one jerk there was another and suddenly her hand was engulfed in his and the doctor and nurses were watching, stunned as eyes opened to reveal a pool of blue that immediately turned and sought a sea of green.

And it was all there, every question, the only answer, two hands connected next to one box between them, because, together, they always spoke best when they said nothing at all.

_The smile on your face lets me know that you need me_

_There's a truth in your eyes sayin' you'll never leave me_

_The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall_

_You say it best when you say nothing at all_

#*#*#

Fin.

#*#*#

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you everyone for your kind words and love for this little story (even if half of them were death threats.) It truly is a pleasure to write in this fandom because of all you readers out there. A big thanks, as always, to my Girl Friday Beta Extraordinaire, the one, the only, Miz Kate Christie. And a special thanks to Angie for bringing me this prompt to begin with and for the graphic. I hope you enjoyed this, Ang. ;)_

_Twitter: aspen_musing_


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